A/N: So, this is part of the Expect The Unexpected series I'm working on, which is, frankly, exactly what it sounds like. As part of my everlasting quest to defy any and all possible cliches, something completely unfathomable occurs with one member of the Glee club in each fic of the series. The goal? To have each character put so far out of their league that they should be OUT of character, but still remain IN character. This is installment number twelve, but none of them are connected plot-wise, so there aren't any prequels you have to read for any of them. Some will be tragic, some scary, some mysterious, some humorous. Enough jabber - please enjoy!


Blood Dog

It was nearly midnight on a Friday when the manager of Lima's one and only bowling alley decided to close a little early and kick Finn, Puck, and Sam out as soon as they finished their last game of air hockey. "I say we go hit up the 7-11 for some beer," Puck said once the boys were outside.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, dude, I gotta get up early to take Stacy to swim practice."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Fine." He turned to Finn. "You in?"

Finn shuffled a little. "I dunno, man, are you sure you should be doing that kind of stuff? You could end up back in juvie." Puck only shrugged. "Anyways, I have to get up early too," Finn continued. "Saturdays I help Burt out in the shop."

"Whatever, dude." Puck pulled the keys to his truck out of his pocket. "Drinking alone is still drinking," he stated, as if what he'd just said was some profound revelation that people would be quoting for centuries. "You need a ride, Evans?"

Sam hopped up into the cab and bid Finn a good night; Puck only voiced a grunt of agreement before driving off. Finn didn't mind walking home - it was only a five minute drive from the bowling alley to his house. Maybe twenty minutes on foot, if he walked slowly.

As boring as Lima was during the day, Finn had always liked it at night. The empty streets, dark windows, and traffic lights signalling to no one always gave him a feeling of calm and made it easier for him to think. It had rained earlier in the evening and there was still a dampness in the air that clung to Finn's skin and clothes as he walked along beneath the streetlamps.

He was enjoying the night air so much that he almost didn't recognize Burt's Toyota parked at the curb. When the vehicle did catch his eye, though, Finn frowned in confusion, because at this hour the truck should have been parked in the driveway next to Kurt's Navigator. The building it was sitting in front of was a warehouse that, as far as Finn knew, hadn't been in use for at least the past decade. But tonight, a soft glowing light illuminated one of the front windows, and Finn's curiosity got the better of him.

He stepped off the sidewalk and went up to the window, trying to see through the dirty class. He could hear muffled voices coming from inside, heated slightly as if there was an argument brewing, but nothing was visible through the grim built up on the glass pane. Finn skirted around the side of the warehouse and found another window just as filthy, but with a chunk of glass missing as a result of a rock thrown by some bored local kid. Finn squinted through the hole, listening to the words that he could hear more clearly now.

"Look, just cough up the money and we can forget this little slip-up," said a balding man dressed in a trucker jacket. Finn frowned when he recognized Todd Ferguson, a frequent patron of the Hummels' tire shop. He'd come to Burt and Carole's wedding. Todd was speaking to a second man that Finn didn't know, who was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, illuminated only by a dusty lamp hanging from the high ceiling. There were two more unfamiliar men standing off to the side, glaring at Todd as if they were only waiting for a signal to beat the crap out of him. Burt was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, Benny," Todd continued, circling around the chair where the man called Benny was sitting. "You've got a little boy at home. We don't want to do anything drastic here."

Benny only smirked. "I didn't take the money," he said calmly. "But I know who did."

"Don't play games with us, Ben." That was Burt's voice, coming from a shadowed area to the right. He'd been standing just outside Finn's peripheral vision.

"No games," Ben promised. "You can check the bank records."

"See, that's the thing," Todd cut in, feigning confusion. "Harry's man checked the records three times - there's no trail. Now, how exactly would a chunk of cash that size just disappear?"

There was a growing feeling of dread in the pit of Finn's stomach. Anyone with a TV knew that interrogations in abandoned warehouses involving large sums of money were bad news and seldom ended well.

"You're a computer man, Ben," Todd was saying. "Would you be able to cover up the tracks of thirty-five grand like that? Theoretically speaking, of course."

"Sure, long as I had the right equipment. Which I don't."

"As far as we know, Benny boy," Todd grinned. "As far as we know."

Ben gave a scoff. "I heard tell that you're not too bad with calculations either, Todd."

Todd's grin dissolved into a chilling glare. "That supposed to mean something, Ben?" His hand was resting on his coat pocket, and Finn was pretty sure that he didn't want to see whatever was in it.

"No, sir," Ben smiled. "But maybe you should double-check your own account, just to be sure."

Todd's hand flicked up and there was a muffled pop, and the chair that Ben was sitting on keeled over, clattering against the cement floor. Ben remained sprawled where he was, a dark pool of blood growing beneath his head, and then there were two more pops and the two silent goons in the back dropped before they had a chance to react. Finn's head spun for several seconds before he remembered to breath. His brain seemed to be stuck, and with it, his body. Despite the overpowering urge to run away, Finn's feet remained solidly attached to the gravel beneath his shoes.

"Jesus, Todd, what the hell was that?" Burt was yelling when the roaring in Finn's ears finally died down. His stepfather was storming forward, seeming not at all shocked by the fact that there were three fresh corpses on the floor. Finn's stomach twisted painfully when he saw the pistol equipped with a silencer in Burt's hand. Todd was holding an identical weapon. "This was just supposed to be a talk, dammit!" Burt shouted.

Todd shrugged, pocketing his gun. "Harry wasn't going to just let him keep stealing. He would've ended up in a closed casket either way."

Burt thrust a furious forefinger at Todd's face, the muscles in his jaw tense. "That isn't your decision to make," he snarled lowly. "You know Harry's rule as well as I do - if we take someone out, we do it in Cincinatti. The police are gonna be swarming this place by tomorrow night."

"Hey, you didn't have to shoot his guys," Todd countered.

"Bullshit, otherwise you and me would be on the floor along with Ben's sorry ass."

It was at that inopportune moment that Finn's cell phone chose to blast the designated ringtone for his mother, and his reflexes kicked in before his brain even processed that Burt had whipped his gun up to aim straight at him. Finn ducked out of sight and shut his phone off with shaking fingers, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Go around the front," he heard Burt say, and realized that he would have to make a run for it.

Finn honestly believed that he had never run faster than he did then, but only halfway across the warehouse's back lot, his shoe caught on a large rock and he crashed hard into the gravel. When he managed to pull himself back up, he found Todd panting from his sprint and aiming his gun directly at Finn's face. Todd's eyebrows shot up and then knitted together in surprise. He lowered the gun. "Finn?"

Finn's vocal chords were paralyzed, and he couldn't reply.

"Oh, Jesus," sighed Burt as he came up behind him. "Finn-"

"It's fine, Burt," Todd said. "Finn can keep a secret. Right, buddy?"

The hairs on Finn's neck prickled. Todd had called him buddy before, but this time it made Finn feel a little sick.

Burt squeezed his stepson's shoulder. "Don't worry about Finn," he said to Todd. "I'll take care of it."

"Good enough for me," Todd said, tucking his gun back into his pocket. "Well, good night, boys. I think I'll walk home." With that, he strode off towards the street, leaving Finn and Burt alone.

Several pregnant seconds passed before Finn mustered up the courage to say, "C-could you put that away?"

"Sorry," Burt said, shoving his gun into his coat's inside pocket and out of sight. He sighed, his hands on his hips. "You saw everything?"

"Yeah."

He sighed again. "Okay. Go get in the car. Let's go home."


A/N: So? What'd you think? Worth a review?